Seeping Doubts and Questionable Motives
by Sentray
Summary: An attempted deep and compelling story following the delicate relationship between two Engineers. Both will have to overcome doubts of their own and open wounds left by difficult, unforeseeable circumstances.
1. Chapter 1: Arrival

_M for some language, violence, and romantic scenes later in the story._

_Disclaimer: I don't own any characters/etc in this fanfic (only a slight alteration was done on the main character). All belongs to Valve/TF2/etc._

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Late afternoon was quickly descending upon the land, but the sun was still high enough in the sky to provide adequate lighting for one to follow the dirt path by car (without use of headlights, that is). Spring had already come and gone, but its effects still lingered about the area, even in the freshly established summer atmosphere. Small, spiked shrubs sprouted from the ground in random or even odd patterns, while a small handful of relatively sturdy trees stood watch in the blistering heat. Damn, this place was a desert, and even I was surprised at the seemingly abundant life (which was an overstatement, mind you, but it had more plant-life than one would expect) which populated the otherwise barren landscape. Most were already swathed in the thick, dark green girth of summer, while others took longer to transition between seasons, still adorning small hints of lighter shades. But really, I'm sure I'm being generous. The growth was spread out, far too sparse to even consider this place anything other than a wasteland.

Thin, yellowish dirt cloaked the ground, almost too easily stirred up by a common breeze, but even with all the soil around, it didn't really _do_ anything. And by that, I mean establish any decent landmarks.  
There were no hills, save for the ones far off to the horizon, seeming to encage the road I was driving on by the distant mountains, but I didn't really count those. Even animal life was meager, but whether it was due to the harsh conditions, or simply because of the structures the lay ahead, I wasn't sure, nor did I really care.

When referring to my life right now.. one would say money was "tight" (to put it lightly). The University that I had attended for the past 8 years was becoming increasingly expensive, and the cash to supplement that was becoming harder to come by. The savings I had put toward the schooling had been quickly drained within the first 3 years, and the co-op jobs as such were the only ones I could find that helped pay the funds (otherwise, I was stuck eating ketchup soup, which was a main diet anyway). But.. despite that, I was still determined. With 2 masters and 3 bachelors in various fields of engineering (mostly of the mechanical, or mechatronic sort), I was still aiming for PhDs, perhaps out of stubbornness.

But, whatever the case, this was one of the most well-paying jobs the co-op program offered. It dealt with my preferred field of expertise (mostly building robots, as far as the job description stated), and the cash.. goodness. It'd help get through a good few debts that my pockets still owed. Sure, it was an odd job, one fueled only by the intense desire of 2 groups of people to dominate, but hey.. whatever floats your boat, I suppose.

The red-ish building I was headed for loomed in the distance, growing in size rapidly, along with the other constructions that lay behind it.

As I pulled into the iron gates, I took a better look at what was to be my supposed "headquarters" of the next while. It was a.. hmm.. to put it nicely, a rather "well-fare" building, as the kids today would call it, but it certainly was large. Towering over my rusted pick-up truck, it provided the worn metal of the automobile with some well deserved shade, and even I couldn't help but sigh at the relief from the sweltering rays.

The building was largely comprised of red-ish wooden boards, accompanied by small sections of metal sheeting, and plenty of patch-up jobs. To be honest, it looked like it was originally a barn that was simply built onto time and time again to suit the growing need for more space.

I simply left the truck where it was, seeing no real spot for parking, and opened the door (which hadn't been oiled in a while, and squeaked in protest upon me doing so), stretching my cramped legs. A 3 hour drive in hot temperatures with a truck with little or no suspension was quite rough on one's body; and mine, although used to sitting down for hours upon hours on end fiddling with devices or studying, wasn't really prepared for the bumps and bruises the rocky dirt road provided.

The uniforms for the different jobs at this place were certainly odd, and I didn't seem to understand them at all, or at least, didn't understand mine. A wrinkled red work-shirt hung from my upper-body, it's sleeves rolled up lazily in an attempt to help relinquish some heat (while clinging to certain areas due to perspiration) with a white undershirt sagging underneath. Dark brown overalls certainly didn't help the temperature problem, and a tool belt constricted any possible attempt at the fabric "breathing", hanging off of which was a gun holster, a length of orange extension cable, and a pouch for whatever small tools one required. Light orange knee-pads further restricted air circulation, and gray, steel-toed boots upped the warmth factor. Lovely.

It was then that I decided it was time to finish suiting up, pulling out the dark yellow protective glove from the small storage space beneath my truck's chair, along with the matching hardhat and welding goggles. I quickly shoved my ponytail'd hair (which was dark brown and curly, for those of you who even care at this point) into the helmet, accompanied by the strapping on of goggles, and the putting on of the one glove I was provided.

To be honest, the outfit of the supposed "engineer" made no sense. Most of the "engineers" I'd had the pleasure of comprehending had calculators and worked in labs, building anything from small mechanical devices, or the larger ones, used in factories. Sure, they all wore protective clothing of some kind, but really, knee-pads didn't help much, nor did welding goggles (or the fact I had ONE protective glove), really; in fact, they just seemed to get in the way, especially when walking around for the whole day with goggles that really obstructed your vision. Also.. a pipe-wrench? I don't remember being hired to fix pipes.

But whatever beef I had with my wardrobe didn't really stand for anything, as it was mandatory, and.. it wasn't too bad, at least. Better than a clown costume, anyway.

A few loose strands of curls had already fallen down from their new helmet dwelling as I continued into the worn crimson structure, and I batted at them in annoyance, finally deciding to tuck them behind my ears. It was then that a red light, immediately to my left on the side of the wall, went off, and a voice from a seemingly unknown source announced something along the lines of  
"Ceasefire initiated. All team members, please return to your appropriate base."

I squinted my eyes, attempting to locate the source of the voice; however, little good it did, as the welding goggles obstructed most of my vision, especially in a building abundant with shade.

"Ceasefire?.." I muttered to myself, which was soon greeted by the sound of other voices.

--

The room to which I was currently standing must have been some sort of transitioning one, as the doorway that I was positioned in was rather unprotected, and the hallway to which it led snaked off in different directions. I narrowed my eyes again in a vain attempt to gain better sight, and from what I could see, stairs descended into the depths of the base to the pathway to my upper left, while the other seemingly headed to more open rooms, perhaps containing various supplies. I chose the left, slinking down the stairs towards the voices I had heard only moments prior.

The inside of the base didn't offer much in any way to compensate for the ragged exterior. Concrete walls and floors worn out from years of battle (and quite stained with blood, I might add; probably from a fair few struggles) were what awaited me as I continued downward, following the general pathway of the stairs. A few bullet casings were scattered about the floor, but nothing too gruesome reared its ugly head, as of yet (not that I was really expecting something as such; but a disassembled hand or leg might have been interesting).

The sound of human chatter continued to refract off of the rock walls, but after finishing my climb downward, I wasn't really paying much attention to them anymore. I let out an impressed whistle as I took in the sight that was, from what I could tell, one of the main rooms of the fortress. A giant screen occupied the vast majority of the opposing wall, a feat only matched by the sprawling set of keyboards, buttons, and various other mechanical doo-dads which lay out beneath the behemoth of a monitor. On the adjacent left wall hung a myriad of weapons ranging from shotguns, and rocket launchers to simple daggers and knives; quite the collection indeed.

Re-adjusting my hardhat, I turned my body to face the right, which headed off into another transitioning hallway, to which I followed, pursuing the hushed lull of conversation. The wall was at least labeled, probably in an attempt to add less confusion to new recruits and the like (me being one of them). The blatant statement of "Kitchen/Recreation Area" was scrawled across the concrete in red ink, along with an arrow that pointed in the direction I was now following. Coming to the door of the assumed place, I noticed it was already open, albeit only a small fraction, so I took the opportunity to glance through it casually.

I wasn't really in the mood for a fancy entrance to meet my colleagues, however I was interested in whom I was dealing with. I was told I would be joining a team of approximately 5, the other members recently picked off in combat. The sides of my mouth stretched slightly at this thought.. exactly how rough was the combat in this place.. ?

"Well, well, what do we'ave 'ere?"  
The sound came from a proximity very close to my ear, heavily laced with a thick French accent, and the subtle stench of cigarettes. Instincts kicked in, and I swung my gloved hand (the one which held my wrench) backward quickly, however apparently not rapidly enough. A hand swathed in leather caught my arm with almost no effort, forcing me to turn around to meet the culprit. What I met was the intrigued, distant stare of a rather tall man, dressed in a fine crimson silk tie with matching mask and leather gloves. He wore a suit, too, however its color was more of a dingy brown, rather than the boisterous red of the rest of his garments.

I had read the training manual rather vigorously previous to my arrival, and according to that, personages adorning the same color as you were on your "team", so to call it. My muscles relaxed slightly, noticing my work shirt and his general apparel seemed to fit under that category, but being restrained wasn't quite how I wanted to spend my afternoon. I yanked my wrist away from the grasp of the man, all the while attempting to combat his opening statement with a witty one of my own.

"Cheesy French accent, check. Ski mask, suit, and stench of cigarettes, check. You must be the Spy?"  
I vaguely recalled the descriptions of the different beings whom I'd be working with, but the Spy's I definitely remembered, so pinpointing who the tall man was was close to little or no effort. I also remembered the rule of "calling people by their job, not name" as being a strange thing to abide by.. but.. somehow I liked it now, as relinquishing my name to one with such a cold stare seemed somewhat unnerving.  
It also dawned on me that a smart-ass opening line wasn't really how I wanted to be portrayed, at least, not to someone as such. So, trying to appear a little more dignified, I flashed a partially sincere smile (which probably ended up looking like a lopsided grin under his cool gaze).

"Oui, z'at would be me," he clarified, all the while his eyes scanning me in a somewhat questionable manner, "and by zee looks of it, you appear to be our oz'ere Engineer."


	2. Chapter 2: Predicament

_M for some language, violence, and romantic scenes later in the story._

_Disclaimer: I don't own any characters/etc in this fanfic (only a slight alteration was done on the main character). All belongs to Valve/TF2/etc._

_Any crit is loved, however harsh._

----

The team had a total of 6 members, including myself; which was odd if you thought about it. There are 9 possible jobs one could have on this insane team, and if the "company" (which was often referred to as the "HQ") could afford to dish out this level of pay for just one person, they could surely cut paychecks and hire on the rest of the classes. Not that I'd actually be foolish enough want my check cut, but really, it'd probably be more beneficial for the entire unit has a whole.

I'd just finished meeting the rest of my work associates, and from first impressions, they weren't bad. They fit most of their descriptions fairly well, and although I hadn't really seen any of them in action, I decided to keep high hopes that they wouldn't screw up royally any time soon (anyone else would find it funny that such a statement came from a _new recruit_). Along with myself, there was another Engineer (fancy that. But in all honesty, it'd help me in the long run if I had someone who knew their engineering show me the ropes), a Spy, Scout, Medic, and Demoman. Not a bad team, but.. it seemed that it'd be better suited for defense or general sneakiness rather than full frontal offense (which isn't what I had hoped for. Defensive tactics lacked the explosions and shouting which kept things lively).

The personalities of everyone seemed to mesh rather well, perhaps merely due to the fact that they fought alongside each other almost daily – this would certainly explain the cold greetings I received from a few. Although I worked in a field that was generally geared more towards men, and I was used to the few snide remarks I'd get (but I usually had a few pieces of my own wit to throw back in response), it was still rather annoying when it came from those whom you'd be forced to work with. I didn't have any problems from the Spy, who seemed to find it amusing to even have a female on the team at all, the Demoman, who was passed out (my guess that large quantities alcohol were involved), or the other Engineer. The latter was a great relief, as it'd just make my immersing in my job that much more smooth, and he seemed like a decent fellow anyway.  
The only ones quizzical about my abilities (or at least, as far as my people skills could tell.. and those had diminished over the 8 years of hard schooling in University) appeared to be both the Scout and Medic.

Scout's objection didn't bother me much, for from a quick observation, he seemed to be one who easily objected to things without much information on the matter (I believe one of the statements said to me was "Oo, a girl. What'cha gonna do? Throw tea at the 'otha team?". Funny indeed). The Medic though.. he seemed to greatly keep to himself upon my arrival, and didn't appear too keen otherwise (I blame years of sexual frustrations, but don't tell him I told you).

I was currently strolling down one of the many twisting passageways with said Engineer, one that allegedly led to a different recreation room – one with more tools and items related to his craft. He had apparently already gotten some sort of memo regarding my request of training, and had promptly, after introductions, volunteered to start it now.

How to describe him though.. hmm.. Well, other than the obviousness of identical clothing, we were very much different (no surprises there though.. differences in gender can do that). I was more slight'a frame, an otherwise obviously feminine physique (though it was hard to distinguish in my current get-up), with longer hair (you couldn't tell though.. as it's in my helmet you see) and whatever else. He, however, had a strong build. Broad shoulders hid themselves under his work-shirt, while sturdy arms protruded from their sleeves. His hands were large and calloused, probably from many years of work, and most of the exposed flesh on his arms were covered by a small amount of dark hair – the stuff you'd expect to see on a man in his 30's or 40's. 5 o'clock shadow graced his face, adding a more gruff appearance than his actual personality lead on, and no hints of hair leaked down from his helmet (a man devoted to his craft, surely. I've heard tales of too many problems arising from machinery and long hair). Despite this, though, he was, as far as first impressions go, a person with a calm demeanor. His voice was low and soothing, and from the 10 minutes that I'd known the fellow he'd said nothing that'd be considered anything but that. Unlike Scout, as an example, who within the first 2 minutes of meeting my acquaintance had already barreled off words like "shit, fuck" and "Jesus Christ" in what was presumably everyday conversation.

"It'd be a 'lil confusing if we were both called Engineer, I'd recon," the Texan said (his state of origin being fairly easy to tell, due to his accent), breaking the silence "Mind if I call'ya Hardhat, just to keep things straight?"  
Though I might have considered the name "Hardhat" to be more of a cheap pet-name rather than anything, the Engineer's tone didn't really seem to contain any hint of teasing or false honesty. So I glanced his way and nodded.

"Sounds more like something you'd call a dog rather than a person, but its alright."

From what I could tell, he certainly wasn't the type to prattle on about anything unnecessary, so he had remained silent for most of the time we'd been walking through the base. He appeared to be concise and to the point, something I already admired.

The man laid his hand on a knob belonging to a door on our right. He twisted it firmly, opened the door and then walked in; myself following not far behind. What lay on the other side of said opening wasn't incredibly impressive, but exciting in its own way, I suppose. It was a fairly decent sized room, its walls and floors made out of concrete, like the rest of the lower levels of the fortress. 2 workbenches crowded the space against the walls to my immediate right, various tools, strips of metal and parts sprawled lazily across its surface. In the space directly across, a wall laden with hooks and the like, many of which were occupied by an assortment of hammers, wrenches, screwdrivers, and other larger and smaller tools, while in the area north of the door, a pile of metal and things as such stood in a messy and unorganized pile.

"A wee bit messy, but try not'a pay it much heed. I s'pose it'd be good t'get started. You familiar with the general programmin' a'sensory robots?" The Engineer asked, faced away from my person while sorting the work bench's contents; stocking it with the materials required. His southern twang was refreshing compared to the usual drawl of the north, a little confusing in some parts, but his general speech was comprehensible.

While occupied with his accent, I didn't quite pay much attention to the actual question he posed, so I responded with a much less intelligent  
"Mm? Yeah. I'm familiar with it."

"We'll move right in t'building heavy caliber tripods'thn, or level 1 sentries, as far as any'n else is concer'nd."

--

The sun had just begun its slow ascent into the morning's sky, smearing the heavenward canvas with gentle pastels of cinnamon and lemon, banishing the darker colours of the twilight into the west. A few early morning birds had already begun their gentle circling of the skies, searching for food no doubt, however little or no land-dwelling animal life showed on the barren landscape.

I'd been briefly trained on the operations of sentries and the like about 2 days prior, and had already been shoved into battle 3 times, if you counted the skirmish that had begun very recently. Engineer had suggested I stick close to him until I learned to construct mechanical devices stronger than a level 1 sentry, or simple dispenser, but I had declined, sure I was able to hold my own. Needless to say, I had my ass handed back to me by the Blue's Sniper. Not literally, mind you, just shot in the arm, and I practically had to beg the "dear Medic" (jerk-off) for his assistance. I'd never been shot before, though, which was probably why I wasn't so keen on the feeling, and wasn't used to it, but I also didn't like the look in the doctor's eyes as he did a hasty patch-up job, finishing with a quick zap of his medical gun. It reeked of indifference which further helped the idea of accepting the generous offer of the Texan (I'd have preferred to deal with the doctor as little as possible).

Yesterday had gone fairly well, as I mostly just learned the tactical places one should place sentries for best defense and offense purposes; observation, if you will, and the start of this battle hadn't offered too many problems as of yet either. The coolness of morning helped raise the moods of the rest of the team, and that was a good thing, to be sure (but I didn't expect the calm to last all that long.. usually by noon mostly everyone had a hint of annoyance about them).

"Stick a lil' closer t'me," the man said, slurring a little bit for whatever reason, "we gotta keep a good watch over these'here-"  
a pause, followed by a quick inhale of breath.

We were in the lower levels of the base, setting up a rather abundant amount of sentries for protection, in case the enemy lines were able to breech this far into the fortress. It had also been decided, prior to the commencing of the "war" (as Demoman called it, anyway. But in all honesty it seems far less serious than what he calls it, and more akin to a slightly more violent match of tennis), that we'd stick watch in this area too, as apparently the Demoman had the higher levels covered; which probably involved setting up a hefty amount of sticky bombs, and throwing whatever grenades he could get his hands on.

I could sense the tension radiating from the Texan, so I responded in a whisper to avoid seeming completely oblivious.  
"What are-"

"Quiet down, son!"  
he cut off my question, cupping my mouth with his un-gloved hand and pulling me tightly against his body.

Taken off guard by his sudden movement (he was usually soft-spoken, from my experiences, however short) my immediate reaction was to grab at his arm, but I suppressed it, merely allowing myself to be pulled into his grasp. I'd never really thought of the Engineer as anything but a work colleague (probably due to the fact I had known him less than a week), but it was then that I actually took notice to the more masculine side of the man. His chest felt sturdy and warm against my back, and I could feel the slow movement of muscles is his frame as he struggled into a crouching position, to further the idea of a need for quiet and secrecy. The subtle aroma of metal, grease, oil, and a hint of some sort of "mountain air" body wash wafted from his person, which was apparently only noticeable at such a close stance.  
What exactly had caught his attention, though? I took the opportunity to glance up at his face, attempting to see in what direction he was looking. His mouth was drawn into a hard line, and his eyes.. were hidden behind the accursed goggles. I frowned in response, trying to see for myself what he was looking at beyond the door.

I didn't need to wiggle for much longer though. Sound quickly overtook over my senses, so I hastily stopped squirming and listened. Footsteps echoed down the hallway behind the wall we were currently pressed up against. This was suspect in itself, as everyone else had been assigned a task above the ground level, and had been instructed to stay there unless an emergency had arisen. But.. if said problem did occur, the alarm would have sounded, wouldn't it?

The click of heels on concrete continued to echo at a slow, rhythmic pace; similar to the beating of my heart.


	3. Chapter 3: Hidden Deception

_Late update. _

_M for some language, violence, and romantic scenes later in the story._

_Disclaimer: I don't own any characters/etc in this fanfic (only a slight alteration was done on the main character). All belongs to Valve/TF2/etc._

_Thanks for the feedback thus far! I'm pleased that at least some are enjoying this.. short chapter this time.  
_

--

I couldn't help but feel a little annoyed at this point. But whether it was because there was a high probability that an enemy was perusing our base freely, or the fact that my engineering comrade was doing nothing about it, I couldn't tell. I had more than once tried to free myself from his grip upon coming to the previous conclusion, but had been held stubbornly in place until the whispers of footsteps had subsided.

Seriously? Wasn't it stressed to all recruits upon, or even prior to arrival, that the intelligence's security was top priority? Besides, this team had lost its fair share of people before, what was one more to them now (not that I particularly wanted to die, it was just common sense here)?

Engineer released the air he had probably been holding this whole time and removed his arm to allow some space between our bodies. I decided to say something, albeit all the while I attempted to phrase it politely. Wouldn't be good to piss a teammate off, after all, about once or twice a week, it'd be him cooking my food.

"Shouldn't one of us have gone after him?" I had taken to standing now, crouching had hurt my knees, and my personal space had been invaded enough.  
"What if he gets to the intel-?"

"He won't," the mechanic interrupted, flexing his legs before standing too, "Too many sentries 'round here, so I'd reckon he won't get far."

His subsequent smile, however convinced, did nothing to drive his point home any further.

"And if he's a spy?"

Ah yes, sappers. The one true enemy of sentries (well, that along with rockets or a healthy dose of bullets, actually), or mechanics of any sort, really. Luckily, I've only had to deal with one of my machines being rendered useless by the confounded device (the fact that I'd only built 3 so far shouldn't count in this...), but I was positive the Engineer had come across a fair few in his time.

A hint of a frown twitched across his lips. To be honest, I was surprised. His weak defense of his actions was unlike him, and soon his scowl had spread to my face too.

He pulled out the shotgun from its holster at his hip and loaded it with ammunition (the bullets had been improved by me, I might add. They're more slender now; but pack a wallop of a punch with their stainless steel exterior. Especially when compared to the standard issue brass), all the while taking a few tentative steps from the room we had been in to the adjacent hallway.

I followed suit, a light smirk playing across my features as I removed my gun from its sheath and stepped from into the corridor behind my companion. (I wouldn't say I was confident, but when you have a fully loaded shotgun in your hands, I'd like to see you not smile a little.)

I suppose we didn't really need to say anything, and when dealing with what we suspected to be a spy, stealth was needed in pretty vast quantities (that, and the reality that anyone put in such a situation would know it was hunting time. Sort of obvious, actually).

I could hear the explosions from the surface; the triumphant cackle of the Medic (either he'd just lopped someone's head off, or he was busy pleasuring himself; the latter probably being the only attention to his nether regions he'd ever get, and I wouldn't be surprised if the two theories I'd mentioned shared the same sounds), the bellowed yowl of the Demoman and even the resulting detonations of a few of his sticky bombs.

The tension strewn on my brow loosened slightly. At least everyone else was having a blast (literally, in Demoman's case).

Engineer rounded the following corner, no doubt heading toward the intelligence room. Every-so-often we even happened to pass the defaced and ruined sparking remains of a sentry. So I was correct? A spy had indeed found his way into the base?

I wouldn't be surprised if one had, after all, they have those fancy watch gizmos to cloak themselves when needed (pansies).

My hands gripped my gun a little more tightly, and my eyes shifted uncomfortably about the hallway, straining to see in the dimly lit quarters of our base's lower level.

A shuffling was heard from ahead. Was it the sound of shoes? Documents, perhaps?

My brows lowered, and I slunk forward, trailing attentively behind my hard-hatted colleague.

He stopped right before the next turn and shrunk back against the wall, motioning myself to do the same, and peered out from behind the cover. His facial features changed suddenly, somewhat resembling a scowl.

"Stay here, an'keep a close watch .Ah'm goin' to investigate."

I nodded (what, did you expect me to insist on going?), taking a more defensive pose as opposed to the offensive one I had been holding only moments prior and readjusted the rifle in my hands to suit my new position.

The goggled laborer then slipped out from the cover, and skulked the short distance to the door which guarded the intel. The only difference that room had from any other was the fact that it didn't have any signs leading to it. Its door, also, looked like any of the others found about the base, but in fact, it was quite different. It didn't have a tempered glass window fitted into it, and what looked to be an ordinary wooden door wasn't. It may have had a thin layer of red-painted wood veneer, but inside was solid steel and a complex series of odd locking mechanisms. The Engineer fiddled with the handle, then entered the code required to open the door in the small keypad on the neighboring wall.

I closed my eyes for a few brief seconds. Man, this was stressful. But at least the door wasn't unlocked, right? Perhaps the spy hadn't gotten this far within the base after all. But I was sure I had heard footsteps .. Why would someone completely pass the room they were aiming for?

When my eyes opened again, the Engineer was gone from my line of vision, while the door to the intel was left ajar. I fidgeted a little, and readied my gun (you know, just in case a spy was shoved into sights. I could get a quick shot this way).

But.. something was off.

He'd been in there for.. what.. 10? 20 seconds now?

He'd have seen the Spy if he was in there (unless cloaked), or at least would have shouted out something akin to "Our intelligence has been stolen!" or even "All's clear, he hasn't gotten this far yet" (with a Texan accent, of course).

Scowling, I moved from the wall I was hiding behind to the wall separating me from the place in question and edged gradually toward the opening. Kicking the door from its ajar position, I leapt into the room full force, rifle at the ready.

It was empty. Papers littered the ground like fallen leaves, while desk drawers and cabinets appeared torn open and ransacked.

There was no way to exit the room other than the door I had just entered through, and the Engineer was nowhere in sight (I highly doubted he had one of those fancy cloaking devices).

I didn't normally swear, but I made an exception for this.

"Goddamn fucking Spy!"


	4. Chapter 4: Redemption

_M for some language, violence, and romantic scenes later in the story._

_Disclaimer: I don't own any characters/etc in this fanfic (only a slight alteration was done on the main character). All belongs to Valve/TF2/etc._

--

The thing referred to as "Ceasefire" would be found odd by most people. A siren sounded and lights flashed, quickly followed by a presumably female voice announcing that said "Ceasefire" had been activated, and that both teams may rest for a pre-determined extent of time.  
Perhaps outsiders would ask "What the hell is that for? Why not just fight all day, make sneak attacks at night, or just take advantage of the opponents' weaknesses?"

Back when this confrontation first began, that was how it started. Everyone just fought all out with almost no visible breaks or resting periods, and if the other team was found to be eating lunch or sleeping, a retaliation attack quickly ensued (which often resulted in great casualties to both sides). By the end of the first month, the members of the RED and BLU teams were both thoroughly exhausted. No one had any time to stop and eat on the battlefield for fear of being picked off, and the fighting began as soon as one heard the obnoxious knocking of bullets and rockets on one's base door.

Eventually, after both sides sent myriad complaints to their associated HQs, an agreement (although a somewhat reluctant one), was made. Time would be set aside for both teams to rest properly and eat, while the time to "kick the opposing team's asses" would also be tentatively scheduled.  
This plan seemed to work out fairly well, and although somewhat unorthodox when thinking of a war (since when did anyone care about the well being of _anything_, let alone any**one**, in a war?), this was how things remained, and still stayed even to this day.

Lunchtime ceasefire could not come at a more welcome time. About 2 minutes after it had been initiated, all troops had headed to their respective dining-halls. Not 2 minutes after that had I burst into said hall, exasperatedly announcing the current situation.

I had to speak rather quickly in order to relay the story accurately, but still fast enough to instill the feeling and need for haste.

After finishing my hurried retelling, the Medic was the first to speak.

"So you just let z'he spy **valtz** right in und take ou'a intelligence?"

The doctor was glaring at me with something closely resembling scorching rage at this point (if I had been a block of ice, I'd have melted by now), quite different from the usual indifference his features sported. His arms were stiff and straight at his sides, hands balled into fists so tight his gloves squeaked, and provided a very clear picture of his lack of amusement in his general posture (then again he usually had a reason to be rather sour anyways).

To be truthful I hadn't really considered the circumstance being my fault; at least, not for more than 2 seconds (it wasn't anyway, as far as I could tell. Even the dear doctor here would have mistaken the Engineer to be genuine). After this, I had swept the idea aside to make room for a more pressing issue; 'what the heck now?'

I had never really known what the intelligence had contained, or was even about, but I could easily make the assumption that it was something of grave importance. Perhaps it dealt with the layout to the base, what supplies we need or are running low on, weaknesses of the bases' structure, or even blueprints of our weapons and equipment. In reality, any one of these, no matter which, could easily provide the BLUs the upper hand in combat (even if only slightly).

"He didn't waltz in," I replied tersely, "he was disguised as the Engineer, and did a hell of a good job of it."

"What are ya', president of his fanclub?"  
Scout was leaning against the middle of the 5 tables the dining hall contained, a smarmy smart-ass grin on his face.

"Steady now, son," the 'real' (as far as we could tell, anyway) Engineer intervened, holding out his arms in a non-threatening way, "she didn't mean for this'ta happen. Though I am curious.."

He was facing me now with a puzzled frown, re-folding his arms into their previous position.

"Ah'was patrolin' the lower quarters of the base, and I don't recall seein' ya there, or at our meetin' point."

Funny how that worked out. It was probably his footsteps we (enemy Spy et moi) had heard, aiding the assumption of an intruder being there, and allowing the actual Spy to maneuver his way to the intelligence room. I have to admit though.. it was some hell of a plan (even though about 40% of it almost certainly involved a vast amount of luck).

"Figures. I showed up about 10 minutes early at our meeting point, Engineer, and you - I mean, the Spy disguised as you– showed up 5 minutes later. It was luck of the draw, really. I doubt he knew I was going to be there in advance."

From the corner of my eye I could see the familiar, faintly amused smile of our own masked Frenchman; who was currently leaning against a pillar next to the table that Scout was at, puffing contemplatively on a cigarette. I was sure he shared the same thoughts on the other spy's actions as I did (but I wouldn't be surprised if he added in "but I could do better" to the end of said thoughts). They were crafty.

It was then that I briefly questioned our Spy's competence. I hadn't heard any amazing or particularly devious stories about him infiltrating enemy lines and stealing anything (everyone else, save for the Medic and Engineer perhaps, had shoved tales of bravery and cunning in my general direction whenever possible. 95% of which involved a great deal of explosions, over exaggerated amounts of praise received from other teammates, and daring escapes. The only thing that wasn't added was probably dozens of squealing women).

Maybe he was just a private man. Either way, I didn't delve into the thought too much, and simply left it at that.

"We don't really have a lot of time to be discu'zing zis right now," the theif paused, exhaling a moderately dark cloud of smoke, "per'aps we should wait until zee meeting tonight, non?"

The Demoman nodded in agreement, slumped limply in his seat at one of the tables, all the while swishing a questionable liquid in a dark brown bottle back and forth uneasily. The Medic didn't react so calmly, still appearing quite tense with an annoyed scowl creasing his features. Instead of shouting (the route most would have taken, along with plenty of profanities), he strode stiffly out of the room without a lunch, his hands still clenched into fists, muttering something about requesting more team members to make up for the "lack ov' professionals".

--

"Listen, ah'" The Engineer stopped walking for a moment, and turned to face me properly, "Ah didn't see any one y'all down there but -but ah should'a looked harder."

I had been accompanying the mechanic about the base, setting up some of my own sentries (level 2 now, I might add. I was still having a few problems rigging up the motion and colour sensors to the rocket launchers on the level 3s) and observing some of the more tactical places to put dispensers.

I shrugged, letting out a troubled sigh. I appreciated his concern, but really, the whole problem didn't have anything to do with him, and apologizing for no reason wasn't needed.

After something like this happens, it's best not to dwell on the past anyways. What good does that do? In the time it takes to grieve and then rearm, the enemy could have snuck into our base and back twice over (no doubt the Scout'd blame me for those too).

"Don't worry about it. It's not your fault the RED Spy decided to disguise as you."

He seemed ready to reply with something else, but appeared to just let it die in his throat. He knew I was right, but why he was bothering to apologize was beyond me. Instead, he settled for a more neutral response.

"Alright then, I s'pose. We only got another hour o' so before we need'ta get packed up. Let's go ahead'n'make another few rounds."

--

The rest of the day was rather uneventful, and the meeting was almost equally as dull. Though I couldn't help but feel a few more twangs of guilt as the whole predicament was discussed.

But this wasn't the only thing mentioned.

The Medic brought to our attention that he'd sent in a request for more recruits to HQ, and had received a prompt reply saying that we'd be getting an additional 2 Snipers, a heavy weapons guy (or "Heavy" as most referred to them as. It wasn't just an easier and quicker name to say, it also had a hidden mocking), a Pyro, and a Soldier.  
Gee, doc, you've really outdone yourself.

But I couldn't help but whistle at the prospect. At least we had a member of each class, at last. This'd greatly help our defense, and the add-ons to our offense weren't anything to sniff at either. I was a little perplexed as to why he hadn't filed the order sooner, but at least he had bothered to do it at all. I suppose I'd admit to being a little satisfied by the man's actions (don't tell him though. His ego might inflate).

"HQ haf' finally decided to replace ou'a deceased comrades," the doctor chimed, pacing about the debriefing room (which was located on the other side of the base from the dining hall), "so ve vill haf'to design an attack strategy to deal wis'ou'a .. **current predicament**."

He stressed the last two words and eyed my direction vaguely. I didn't really notice though, as I was already considering how exactly to go about redeeming myself.

I hadn't entirely given up the notion of "the past staying in the past, forget it and move on", but I had also taken a different approach too. Perhaps if I could regain not only our documents, but some of BLU's as well, I'd certainly be held in higher esteem.

Perhaps it could even help the team work together more smoothly? If everyone was at least tolerant of everyone else.. Well, it certainly couldn't be anything negative. "Like clockvork", I had heard the Medic say once before.

Ugh. When did I start trying to plan my own "atonement"? I lifted a hand to my face and rubbed at the bridge of my nose.

Then again, I already knew the basics of the enemy base. The Spy was kind enough to relay the information to me earlier in the week (actually, he just said something along the lines of "You kno', both of our basez are zo alike, they could have easily been built by zee same people". Not much, but at least it was something).

Maybe it _was_ a good idea. Not so much the thought of reclamation but more towards that of a challenge. Or just another training exercise, possibly (a game of hide & seek in the dark, even).

I was busy mulling the idea over in my head for the rest of the meeting; concocting a loose plan and even a method of escape if said plan turned sour.

Worse case scenario was that I got killed or injured while trying to escape. The best? Retreating back to the base unscathed with the papers in hand, hooting all the way.

By the end of the gathering I had decided to at least attempt it. If I couldn't sneak into their base properly, I'd return here. If I did get what I wanted.. Hmm..

But if I was caught?

I didn't truly want to think about that turn of events.

After saying our parting goodbyes and goodnights, I couldn't help but notice the questioning look the Engineer kept shooting my way as I departed for my quarters.


	5. Chapter 5: Into Action

_M for some language, violence, and romantic scenes later in the story._

_Disclaimer: I don't own any characters/etc in this fanfic (only a slight alteration was done on the main character). All belongs to Valve/TF2/etc._

_Any crit is loved, however harsh._

--

Night had descended quickly upon the land, shrouding the heavens with the gentle cloak of darkness, but still leaving enough light for one to see (albeit barely). The moon was swollen and heavy, swimming graciously upward in the sky dotted with shimmering speckles of stars. Most of the creatures of both land and the skies had long since retired to bed to welcome the dream-swathed embrace of sleep. The humans who were still awake had business to attend to; whether it be filling last minute papers, brushing one's teeth, or lying in bed paranoid, it all dealt with peaceful activities. Everything involving anything strenuous or loud would be saved for the battle tomorrow.

A few vigilant hawks squawked in the shadows, their pale eyes illuminated in pillars of pale moonlight while a few unenthusiastic whimpers of mice could be heard from the ground.

Grass wasn't sparse in this area. In fact, a good percentage of the soil was covered in long tufts of yellow vegetation (while its green lawn-like relation was no-where to be found).

A deep river ran between the two buildings, around the mountains and off into the distance, carrying with it a questioningly large amount of water for a wasteland.

Trees, too, were more abundant the closer one got to the bases and away from the desert landscape. A few could even be found at the far edges of the river, clustering together near the feet of the slopes (the ones to the center had long ago been shredded and destroyed by the malice of war).

The RED base was positioned on one side of said rather daunting mountains, while the BLU base was settled on the other. However, it appeared as if the pointy hills were merely pushed out of the way to allow guns, Soldier missiles, and other general explosives easier access to the opposing fort.

Quite the picture, is it not? It kind of made me feel like a secret agent of sorts, at the time anyway (though I'm sure Spy would disagree). I decided to use the left region to sneak across the river, as the waterway was far narrower on that side and the bridge less rickety.

The grass tickled at my overalls, the rest easily flattened under the deep gray of my work boots. It was around 11:30; 3 hours after the end of the evening meeting, and about 2 hours after Engineer had stopped by my room.

I suspected he had known I'd was going to try and do something, so along with a simple goodnight, he had told me "not'ta go'n do anythin' reckless" as we'd "sort it out eventually". In response to that, I just sort of nodded and relayed the same "goodnight" sentiments before sending him on his way.

In any case, in my eyes it wasn't reckless. I had always been told as a child that if "you mess something up, fix it", and that was just what I was doing. Besides, I had observed the BLUs for the weeks I had been here, and already knew their numbers had dwindled to around the same as ours. They had no Engineers, and thus, no way to set up nightly defenses incase of a nightly attack (though I didn't believe it'd stay this way. With our numbers increasing, there was hardly a doubt in my mind that they'd have ordered new recruits from HQ too).

For the most part though, both sides kept their word on the night-time Ceasefires. I've only heard about one or two instances where the treaty was broken in one of Demoman's ramblings during lunch one day (the information about it was quite brief though, and quickly overtaken by more tales of explosions).

There really was no punishment, I could assume. The ones who attempted it first had either died trying to escape, or died the next day out of sheer revenge by BLUs. The next batch survived, only to receive a quick slap on the hand for the intrusion (but they were quickly treated as heroes behind closed doors after the incident).

I didn't think I'd be treated as any sort of hero, unless I brought back something important, which was my goal in the first place.

I was currently stationed near the bank of the river, hiding in a small cluster of 3 or so trees, and crouched down behind the bushes at their feet. Through some of the gaps in the foliage, I was able to see the bridge, and beyond that, my objective.

Behind me I could hear the blip and mechanical rotation of a few of our sentries that had remained up (for good measure), and silently thanked the lack of Engineers on the opposing side.

The passage across the river was unprotected; completely left out in the open, with nothing to shield anyone from view, or physically.

I frowned in distaste, though I doubted any of the BLUs (save for the Spy) would be expecting any sort of retaliation (especially now, as no one had tried to infiltrate at night for the past 5-or-so years). If the Spy did expect something, perhaps he had warned his team? But from where I was, I could see no hint of movement from within the base; the windows remaining dark and lifeless with not a single visible light left on.

I snorted. They were either trying to lull me into a false sense of security, or they really were out like.. well, a light (pun included).

Pulling my shotgun out of its holster at my waist, I moved forward. To be honest I was already starting to get a little excited. My heart was beating noticeably faster now, and I had to blot out some of the sweat that had accumulated on my neck. Carefully stepping out of the leafy cover, I trudged over to one of the iron barricades near the bridge, stopping only to listen for any other movement.

After hearing only the hushed song of crickets in return, I started forward again. I attempted to keep my boots light, but they still managed to make an uncomfortable clicking sound with the overpass' metal surface.

I heard a soft crunch of a twig behind me, and whipped around, shotgun at the ready, only to find a rather large rat staring at me with beady red eyes. I clicked my tongue in annoyance. Was I being too jumpy?  
No, I'd rather nearly have a heart attack than a bullet in its place (plus, getting too overconfident or relaxed wouldn't help my situation here).

The BLU base loomed just ahead of me, and I couldn't help but stare at it. Compared to the barn of a fort the REDs occupied, this certainly looked like a fortress. Its walls appeared to consist of pure white and blue painted concrete, its doors made of thick, bolted metal, and a seemingly endless amount of barbed wire lined any and all surfaces resembling a wall or window.

The RED fort in comparison could have been broken into easily. One could probably just lift up some of the metal sheeting acting as a roof in some spots and just slip in, but the BLU base? Sneaking in through the roof made no sense, as it was made of rock, and the windows looked pretty sound in terms of their strength.. they'd be hard to break, and probably make a lot of noise if one tried.

I continued past the bridge to some tree cover on the other side, and settled down behind a particularly large trunk.

Did they have any ventilation shafts? .. Far too comical. I bet they'd have some sort of defense mechanism set up in there anyways (an alarm made of motion detectors or a laser alarm system, I'd bet). Then what did that leave?

.. Maybe I could head around the back. Both bases concentrated on protecting their fronts, probably out of confidence that if any unit strayed to near to the fort itself, they'd be blown up before being able to make it around the actual structure. That's what the layout of the RED base was, in any case, so could one assume (given our Spy's theory to be correct) BLUs had a similar one.

I pondered this, scratching at the back of my neck. There really was no way to be sure of my hypothesis' validity besides actually trying it. But risking any other methods was a little too dangerous.

Taking one last deep breath, I sprinted out the cover of the trees. I looked around wildly as I did so, trying to hear beyond the sounds of nature, all the while trying to notice any questionable movement besides my own. Not seeing anything suspicious, I continued my fast pace, passing another bundle of saplings and shrubs on my way. The grass was still tall on this side, but I could see a noticeable difference in the amount of it. It seemed only the east and west wings of the BLU side had any yellowy foliage, and even then it was minimal.

Maybe they used their flanks to attack too (the RED side had plenty of grass, with a lesser amount of ground not occupied by it in comparison)? Hmm.. this'd be something to bring up, if we were ever involved in a tactics meeting.

An iron gate barred my way as I approached the left side of the enemy headquarters. It extended all the way across the length of the fortress, but not its width, leaving a tiny, but noticeable gap where the barrier ended and mountains began. I approached said opening, panting a little from the run (I'm wearing clothing that isn't really meant for running, AND I have the 10 pound addition of a wrench and a shotgun. You try not being tired).

To be honest I was a little surprised. I expected bullets to be shot at my feet, rockets whizzing overhead, or an invisible force (a spy) to backstab me before even reaching the destination. Then again, after a hard day of fighting, I doubted anyone would want the night shift, thus no one would take it (case and point being the RED team, and seemingly the BLUs too). I managed a muffled laugh at the mental image, as I doubted I had the stamina to actually dodge anything besides an elephant.

Now for the fence. Its top was covered in thick layers of barbed wire, while its metal bottom extended stubbornly to the ground. There was no way I'd be able to go either route without taking too long digging a hole, or tearing myself up from the wire. I huffed and looked back towards the gap in the gate. I supposed I'd have to climb diagonally as originally planned.

Replacing the gun back in its carrier I grabbed at a few tufts of sturdy looking grass on the side of the steep incline. Pulling on them, I guessed that they'd be able to support my weight, but not for long, judging by the way they held, but only just so. Strengthening my grip, I hauled myself upward with a grunt while trying to find some sort of foot hold. Finding none, I then attempted to grasp at another patch of yellow to lower myself downward.

But the grass I had been holding didn't seem to like the idea of supporting my whole weight, gave way with a few chortling snaps.

"G-gah, jesus!"

I fell backwards with a gasp, my back hitting the metal siding of the fence with considerable force. A fiery pain erupted from the surface that was in contact with the iron, and stayed that way until I gained enough momentum to pull myself away from the touch; teeth clenched to try and prevent the bellowing that would have occurred otherwise.

Crap. Electric fencing.

I collapsed not seconds afterward, the muscles in my back twitching from the previous shock.

Hmph, my underestimating didn't really get me anything besides.. a light burn wound, I'd assume. But still, it was pretty impressive. To make up for their lack of a mechanic class, they had other surprises up their sleeves. The only thing I could guess at this point was that they had pitfall traps or landmines as such. I doubted they had guard dogs, as we'd have heard them already from the constant barking.

I couldn't help but wonder what else they'd rigged with electricity.

Getting back to my feet, I could already feel the stiffness settling into my tendons as I tried to stretch. Then again, I was lucky that I didn't get any more exposure to the current.

I had already looked around in search of cameras or anything noticeable, and found nothing. Satisfied with that, I ebbed my way as slowly as I'd allow around the siding of the base, attempting not to put too much strain on any of my body parts in particular. I still tried to stay light on my feet, just in case there _were_ any landmines, but my feet never came in contact with any, even as I had rounded the side of the building and reached the back.

The sight brought with it a brief sneer on my part. Though there were no windows of sort that I'd be able to readily penetrate, I did see 2 rather interesting garage-like doors. They were both metal and covered with a layer of blue paint, combined with matching handles at their bases. It looked like one of those doors that one would simply pull up to allow one's self in.

Plucking an iron bolt from my pocket, I lightly tossed it at the smaller of the two entrances. After receiving no sparks or questionable sounds in response, I strode toward the door confidently and pulled it up.


End file.
